poliphilo

It's a little early for bluebells though a few- but not enough to make a splash- were in evidence. Never mind. The woods were carpeted with white anemones.

As fine as the anemones is the haze of green that is suddenly spread all over the trees- and the delicacy of the tiny silky leaves that make it up....

There are ponds in the woods. Ponds with islands that are just out of reach- the water too wide for leaping and it would be foolish- and no doubt frowned upon- to wade across. I toyed with a fantasy of getting across somehow and planting a flag....

But "No man is an island"

Talking of poets, here's a phrase of Eliot's: "the juvescence of the year". I don't think I've come across it anywhere else. I imagine he found it in one of the 17th century writers he loved. Hey, he might even have found it in Donne- which would be neat.

Juvescence- the word juice seems to be lurking in there somewhere. It's a wonderful word for early Spring.